


Keepsakes

by ContrEeri



Category: Naruto
Genre: Family Bonding, Gen, Sand Siblings-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 11:12:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17181878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContrEeri/pseuds/ContrEeri
Summary: Little things found hidden in boxes have a funny way of filling a hole that he wasn't even aware was in his heart.





	Keepsakes

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for heartofthesand's Secret SANDa and a gift for yzy-sunagakure on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy! Since there weren't any actual prompts, just fave characters and ships given, I pretty just wrote whatever I was inspired to write. It's a little self-indulgent because I've been doing some world-building and character work with Karura for some other fics I'm working on and this kind of ended up being a prequel of sorts to something I'm working on. However, I do hope you enjoy! I know you like family relationship stuff so I hope this is to your liking! I didn't have as much time to work on editing as I'd have liked because the holiday season was kind of hectic, but I worked hard on this and had lots of fun writing it!
> 
> Edit: also forgot to mention, but i am firmly in the “i hate rasa and yashamaru and they doesn’t deserve forgiveness” camp, so even tho it’s like canon that yashamaru supposedly didn’t hate gaara and gaara like forgave their father that’s all redacted! only thing that counts from gaaras fight with rasa during the war is that his mother did love him! and that’s that on that

“Kankurou!” Temari's voice echoed from a distance, muffled between walls and across the massive upper floor of the Kazekage Estate. 

Kankurou grumbled, setting down his puppet scroll. He was almost finished packing for his mission, which Temari knew he had to leave for in an hour. It was an emergency, last minute mission to the coastal region where one of the smaller Jade Valley settlements was facing a serious problem: Pirates.

The main city of Jade Valley, located at the heart of Paru Gulf, was well equipped to handle the average pirate, but the smaller towns and villages that had sprawled out along the gulf's coast weren't so secure, and the farther a village was from the city, the more susceptible to attacks it became. A messenger hawk had arrived only two hours previous, and Gaara had taken immediate action. He'd assigned Kankurou the mission, told him to leave by one, and then left him in charge of organizing his team which had taken the better part of the last two hours. Packing wasn't necessarily a time-consuming task, but Kankurou was on a time-crunch. He didn't have time for whatever Temari wanted, but no matter the circumstances, when his big sister called he listened. 

Especially when she was pregnant. 

“Oh shit,” Kankurou breathed, making a dash from his room. “Temari!” 

He'd heard her voice coming from the south-west wing, opposite of where Kankurou was and as far from him as possible. He cursed how large their home was and that Temari had insisted she move to a separate wing now that she and Shikamaru were married.

“Gaara?” he called as he raced from his room, trying to keep his panic from rising. There was only silence. Gaara was probably at the office.

Kankurou ran through the hall, making a beeline for the staircase and down to the kitchen. His feet pounded across the massive space, his heart beating wildly. What if she'd fallen? What if she'd gone into early labor? What if something had fallen on her? He raced up the next set of stairs, picking up speed and vaulting over the last five to reach the landing. 

“Temari!” he called, unable to keep the panic from his voice. 

“In here,” she called from the end of the hall. She was in their mother's old room, the door closed. Her voice didn't sound strained or in pain, but Kankurou's heart was still beating an erratic rhythm in his chest and he ran the rest of the way down the long hall, yanking the door open with enough force it almost came out of the wall. 

“Temari, are you—”

She was perfectly fine, sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and a box of their mother's things before her. Temari looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy and a smile on her face. She frowned at the look on his face, at the way he was panting and holding himself in the door as though prepared for a fight. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Kankurou closed his eyes, leaning against the door frame and trying to catch his breath. “Nothing,” he said after a minute. 

Temari raised her eyebrows, disbelief in the quirk of knowing quirk of her mouth. “Let me guess: you panicked.” 

Kankurou huffed, stepping into the room. “I did not,” he grumbled. “I just... didn't want to make you wait,” he tried.

Temari laughed. “You and Shikamaru are the worst. Why can't you be more like Gaara? He doesn't freak out every time anything happens.” 

Kankurou rolled his eyes, taking a seat next to Temari on the floor. “Well, someone's gotta be the neurotic one about all this—and it's not you or him, so I guess that leaves me and Shikamaru. So, what's goin' on? I've got a mission to leave for soon.” 

Temari pulled the box closer. “I found some of mom's things.” 

Kankurou felt something tighten in his chest. He didn't remember Karura, but Temari did—bits and pieces, barely enough to call memories. Their mother holding Temari close and the smell of her as Temari cried against her chest until the monsters went away; the tune of a song Karura had sung that neither of them would ever truly know. It wasn't much, just a blurry image of who their mother had been and she'd shared it with Kankurou in the dark of the night when their father was away and Gaara was their nightmares come to life. She'd tried to be the mother they didn't have, a toddler determined to show the same tenderness her mother had, but far too young to fill the role of mother. 

It hadn't taken long for Kankurou to realise that Temari was, in her own quiet way, afraid of being a mother. A true, proper mother, not a toddler who missed her own mother but didn't want her baby brother to know. 

The ache in his chest came with a tightness in his throat, but he swallowed it down. “I thought that bastard got rid of all her things,” he said, voice gruff with feelings he didn't want to show. 

Temari's expression soured at the mention of their father. “He must not have gotten rid of everything. Uncle Yashamaru kept some things, I know, but when he died...” 

A chill went down Kankurou's spine. They never talked about Yashamaru's death. Never. 

“He must have hidden some of her things,” Kankurou said quickly. 

Temari shrugged. “Maybe. But we know the Fourth sealed this room after mom died, so it's possible there were things in here he didn't know about. Things neither of them new about.” 

“So what's in the box?” He didn't particularly want to talk about their father or their uncle any longer. 

Temari grinned. 

Downstairs, the distant sound of the door opening echoed through the house. 

“Gaara must be home,” Temari said, biting her lip. “This can wait—”

“He might want to see this,” Kankurou said, looking over his shoulder. 

Temari hesitated. Kankurou could see her weighing the situation and plotting out as many outcomes as she could, her diplomat mind and her shinobi skills working her through the problem she saw before her. 

“He's not a kid anymore,” he said quietly. “He might want to know more about her.” 

Temari's eyes were wet, the glassiness of earlier explained. Kankurou still wasn't used to her tears. He'd seen her cry a handful of times when they were children, once or twice as Genin, but she'd always done her best to keep her tears a secret. She had to be the strong older sister. 

“Y-you're right,” she said, her voice quivering. 

Kankurou reached out, grabbing her hand. Rasa hadn't liked when they'd been affectionate as children, especially once they'd begun training to become shinobi. There had been so many things he hadn't liked that his children had done, and every time he found a new thing he'd quickly train them out of it. 

They still had trouble remembering that he was no longer around to reprimand them. 

Temari squeezed his hand, and he rose to his feet, walking out into the hall. “Oi! Gaara!” 

There was silence from below, then after a moment the gentle creaking of floorboards as Gaara made his way upstairs. Kankurou waited in the door, glancing back into the room where Temari was back to looking through the box of their mother's things, smiling to herself as she riffled through the box. 

“What is it?” Gaara's dull voice floated from the end of the hall. 

Kankurou turned, catching Gaara's gaze. He was silhouetted by the early afternoon light filtering in from the large window at the end of the hall, his expression the composed calm it always was. If he were concerned that something had happened to Temari, he didn't show it. 

“Temari's cleanin' out mom's old room and we found some of her things. Thought you'd like to see.” He shrugged, trying to cover the feelings their mother's thing stirred in him with a casual air. Gaara's gaze flicked away from Kankurou, as though he could see through the wall that hid Temari and their mother's things from him. 

“I'd like that,” he said quietly, approaching the room with a timidness that did not suit him. 

Temari and Kankurou still spoke about their mother every so often, but never around Gaara. It was a subject they had deemed taboo, much like the subjects of their father and uncle, but they'd never actually asked Gaara if that was something he wanted. It had simply been another way for them to protect their little brother—they had so few ways to do so when Gaara's sand did that better than anything else. 

Kankurou wondered if perhaps it had been the wrong choice. He glanced at Temari, meeting her gaze as Gaara slipped into the room and took a careful seat just behind her. He didn't look into the box and he kept it at a distance, his shoulders hunched ever so slightly, as though he were guarding against something. 

The look in Temari's eyes reflected the same thing Kankurou felt: regret. 

“So,” Kankurou said, breaking the silence, his voice like the crack of a whip cutting through the tension. He cleared his throat. “What'd you find?” 

“Well, it's not much,” Temari began, pulling out a small, ornate box. It glittered in the sun from the far window, a rainbow playing across its surface. “There wasn't much in here to begin with—mostly furniture we can't use—”

“You didn't move that yourself, did you?” Gaara asked, the flatness of his usual tone broken for a brief second. He glanced down at Temari's stomach. 

“No, Gaara,” she said with a huff. “I'm pregnant, not stupid. Shikamaru and I started working on this before he left for Konoha. I've mostly just been cleaning and sorting through the things still left in here. Most of it's just junk, except for this. I found it behind an old painting of the Third.” She pointed to the painting in question, propped against the far wall. “Honestly, it felt like it was hidden, like maybe mom did this.” 

“Would explain why it's still here and not in the trash,” Kankurou said. 

“True,” Temari said, setting the little box down in front of her.

“Are you gonna open that?” Kankurou asked, staring at the box, as the possibilities flickered through his mind. 

“In a minute,” Temari reprimanded, taking out a cloth-bound book and setting that down as well. Several scrolls joined the growing pile, followed by a glittering dagger with a handle to match the little box. Then a framed photo of a little girl and a little boy. 

“Is that—” Gaara's voice broke, the words coming to a sudden stop. 

Temari picked up the frame again, touching the glass over the little girl's face. “It's mom when she was little.” Her eyes went wide. “And that must be...” 

“Yashamaru,” Gaara finished. 

Kankurou glanced at Gaara. It was hard to tell, but he looked almost sick. Kankurou grabbed the picture, holding it so Gaara couldn't see Yashamaru's face. “We can always cut him out.” 

“No,” Gaara said quickly. 

Temari and Kankurou shared a look. They'd never talked about Yashamaru with Gaara, not even after the war when their father's revelation about their mother had come. Yashamaru was still a big question mark, where Karura wasn't. The truth about their mother and her love for Gaara was more than they'd ever expected to find out, and Kankurou tried not to want more, but it was hard when he was faced with the look in Gaara's eyes at only a photo of a man long dead. 

Even if Gaara didn't want them to cut Yashamaru from the photo, Kankurou wanted to. Even if there was something to know about Yashamaru, even if he hadn't wanted to kill Gaara, Kankurou still wouldn't forgive him. What kind of man accepts such a mission? Why hadn't Yashamaru been the uncle Gaara had thought he was, the uncle Gaara had needed? 

“Oh, my—” Temari broke off, holding up a garment that Kankurou could only assume had belonged to their mother. 

“Temari?” Gaara asked, staring at their sister with slightly wide eyes. 

Temari wiped at her own eyes, grumbling, “Stupid hormones. Ugh. I'm sorry, it's just—I remember this. Mom used to wear this. It had been a gift from her family. She—she wore it when she was pregnant with you, Gaara.” 

Gaara stared at the dress as though he'd never seen one before. The cut was unimpressive—nothing elaborate, just a simple straight dress with simple sleeves—but the detailing on the dress was breathtaking. The embroidery shone as though it were made of the same material as the little box and dagger, glittering in the light. The color of the dress itself was a soft green, almost the same color as Gaara's eyes, and the embroidered detail depicted waves swirling around the hem with tiny pearls sewn into the water. At the collar of the dress, golden rays of sunlight had been embroidered, casting an impossible glow on the central image of a fish circling a pearl. 

Temari held the garment to her face, breathing in. “I could swear it still smells like her,” she said softly, tears rolling down her face. 

Gaara watched her, his gaze intent upon the tears on her face. If Kankurou wasn't used to Temari crying, Gaara was even less so. Temari had been sure to keep her tears from Gaara during their childhood, and then she'd been more determined after the Chuunin exams to never let him see her break. 

“I'm his big sister,” she'd told Kankurou. “I have to be strong for him.” 

Kankurou understood. He felt the same, though perhaps his guilt wasn't as profound as Temari's—after all, she was the eldest. It should have been her looking out for both her brothers. 

“Temari,” Kankurou reached out, touching her shoulder. 

She sniffed, shaking her head. “I'm sorry. I just—I miss her.” 

She stared into Kankurou's face, searching for that same feeling there. 

“I'm sorry,” Gaara said, his voice so quiet and so broken Kankurou was almost sure it hadn't been Gaara who'd spoken at all, but a ghost. 

Temari turned, reaching out for Gaara. “Don't be,” she said thickly. “There's nothing for you to be s-sorry for.” 

Gaara looked away, his own eyes brimming with tears. “But...” 

“No, buts,” Temari said firmly. “It wasn't your fault, Gaara. It never was.” She reached out, touching his cheek and wiping away a stray tear that had slipped past his defenses. “None of it was ever your fault, all right?” 

Gaara closed his eyes, nodding silently. 

Kankurou grabbed something from the pile—the dagger—and held it up to the light. “What do you think mom was doing with something like this? I mean, she wasn't a shinobi and this is—well, it's too ornate for shinobi work, yeah?”

“It looks like it came from Jade Valley,” Gaara said, his voice flat and level once again. 

“Jade Valley. Ain't that where I'm goin' on this mission?” 

Gaara nodded. “To a southern village. That probably came from the city.” 

“How do you think mom got this?” 

Gaara's gaze raked over the items Temari had taken from the box, his expression thoughtful. “Most of this looks like it was made from abalone shell and pearls. And that motif—the fish around the pearl—is a sacred symbol among the Jade Valley people.” 

Temari frowned. “Then that means mom was from there,” she said, a bit breathless. “I always wondered, but he'd never tell me. He never talked about her at all.” 

“Wow,” Kankurou breathed. “So I guess this mission is kind of an ancestral visit. Think I'll meet anyone who knew mom?” 

“Doubtful,” Gaara said. “She was probably from the city. The smaller villages of Jade Valley wouldn't have had the treaty with Suna to arrange such a marriage.” 

“Then I guess I'm gonna make a pit stop on my way back,” Kankurou decided. 

“What if we have family still alive?” Temari asked. “That would—we could learn more about the things mom would have taught us. Maybe someone there knows the song she used to sing.” 

“That would be nice,” Gaara said. He shifted, reaching out for something from the pile. For a moment, he hesitated, as if afraid to touch their mother's things, but he steeled himself quickly, grabbing the cloth-bound book from the pile. 

It was in a similar shade of green as the dress Temari still held in her lap, it's face embroidered with the same fish encircling a pearl. Gaara's fingers shook as he touched its face, his fingers gliding over the embroidery before slipping to the edge and opening the book. 

“It's a journal,” he said, breathless and reverent. 

Temari and Kankurou leaned closer, looking over his shoulder to see their mother's handwriting. 

“I can't read any of that,” Kankurou said, disappointment settling in him. 

“It's her native language,” Gaara pointed out. “I'll see if we have anything archived on the language spoken in Jade Valley, perhaps we can translate it.” 

“Can't believe mom knew a whole 'nother language—wait, does that mean I'm not gonna be able to talk to these people when I get there?” 

“They speak our language,” Gaara said, flipping through the journal's pages. “Their native language is still common there, unlike some of the other tribes in this region, but Jade Valley is a port city. It's a very culturally rich city from what I know of it.” 

“But I'm not going to the city.” 

“No, but the smaller villages still do trade within the city. You won't have any problems communicating.” 

Kankurou breathed a sigh of relief. He did not have time to worry about learning a new language, he needed to leave in—

“Oh, shit, what time is it?” 

“Almost one,” Temari said. “Why?” 

“I've gotta get goin'. We were scheduled to leave for the coast at one, and I booked us horses for the trip.” 

“Can you wait just one more minute?” Temari asked, her eyes wide and pleading. 

“Temari—”

“Just let me open this?” she asked, placing her hand on the little box. “Then you can go. And we can go through the rest of this when you get back.” 

Kankurou sighed, settling back onto the floor. “All right, but hurry up. I can't be late.” 

Temari didn't waste a second, though Kankurou could tell she wanted to take her time in opening the little box. It truly was beautiful, the abalone shell glittering and the inlaid pearls as white as Gaara's robe of office. Once the box was open, Kankurou could see more of the same pale green cloth lining the inside. 

“Oh,” Temari breathed, taking a bracelet from the box. “This is gorgeous.” 

“A little too pretty for my taste,” Kankurou said. “Should look good on you though, sis.” 

Temari shook her head. “I don't know when I'd wear something like this,” she said. “I mean, I guess I could now, but once I'm back at work—”

“Well, you still got what? Three months?” 

Temari groaned. “God, no. It's only a month before the baby is due, and I'm only taking another week or two off before going back to work.”

Kankurou snorted. “Still set on that, huh?” 

“Yes,” she said, exasperated. “You and Shikamaru need to stop hounding me about taking more time off. I'm already missing a huge meeting at the beginning of next month.” 

“I promise it won't be that exciting,” Gaara told her, a small smile on his face. 

“Maybe for you, but I haven't done a single thing for the last three months. I'm _bored_.” 

“Fair,” Gaara said. “I am sure I would feel much the same if I weren't permitted to work.” 

“Exactly,” Temari said, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. “Oh, there's more in here.” She pulled out a necklace, it's chain a simple silver and hanging from it a piece of abalone carved into the sun. 

“That's nice,” Kankurou said. “Anything else in there? I really should get going.” He got to his feet, eyeing the contents of the little box. 

“A bunch of things,” Temari said. “Wait, there's—there's a note in here.” She pulled from the box a tiny square of paper that had been folded several times. Temari stared at the square, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “It—it says my name.” 

Kankurou knelt back down, his heart racing as though he'd just run across their home all over. “What?” 

“It—look,” she said, holding it out to him. It was the same handwriting as the journal. 

“Well, open it!” Kankurou said. 

Temari hesitated for only a moment longer before unfolding the note with shaking fingers. She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes against a fresh wave of tears. She held the note out to Kankurou. 

_To my beautiful daughter,_

_If you are reading this, then I am no longer with you and cannot give you or your brothers the gifts I have made for you. It is a tradition among my people—your people—for a mother to make jewelry for her children. Your father has always been annoyed by my 'quirks' as he calls them, but I do not want you to forget you are more than just shinobi. I know that must seem a horrible thing to say, but things are different in Jade Valley._

_I wish I could take you there myself, but your father has plans for your youngest brother and he won't hear a word against them. Please, Temari, my beautiful little wind sprite, take care of your brothers. In this box, I have left all three of you a necklace: for you, Temari, a pearl, as white as the wind; for Kankurou, my first born son, a shell as bright as the sun; and finally, for my precious unborn baby, I have carved a piece of jade into the water that is so sacred to our people._

_Take care of yourself and your brothers, my little wind sprite._

_I will always be with you._  
Love,  
Mom 

Kankurou's eyes burned, and he quickly wiped his eyes before any tears could fall and mar their mother's message to Temari. The necklace in Temari's hand was the one their mother had said was for him. He passed the note to Gaara, who was watching them both with a heaviness in his gaze that Kankurou would not be able to shake for long moments after the was alone. 

“That's mine,” Kankurou said, his voice tight. 

Temari passed the necklace to him, letting its chain trail slowly into his hand.

He touched the glittering shell with calloused fingers, unworthy of something so beautiful. He closed his eyes and closed his hands around the sun. _Thanks, mom._

Beside him, Temari had taken out the necklace for herself—a gorgeous pearl set within more abalone, adorned with tiny beads of jade. Her eyes were streaming, her lip quivering as she placed the necklace around her neck. She sucked in a breath, covering her face with her hands and crying for a moment before collecting herself and pulling the final necklace from the box. 

Gaara's necklace was a circle of pure jade, a green so soft and familiar Kankurou felt a jolt of nostalgia. The little pendant had been carved into beautiful waves, with nothing else to distract from the beauty of the jade itself. Kankurou watched as Gaara took it from Temari, his hands shaking. 

Temari and Kankurou watched as Gaara slipped the necklace over his head. He touched the little green pendant, staring down at it with wide, tear-filled eyes. Kankurou realised that the color of the jade was the same as Gaara's eyes. 

“I've never seen jade this color,” Temari said, looking at Gaara's necklace. 

“I don't think jade like this exists anywhere else,” Kankurou said, putting his own necklace on. 

“No,” Gaara agreed. “The jade from Jade Valley is unique. It's special.” 

“Like mom,” Temari said, the words coming as though she hadn't meant to speak them. 

“Yeah,” Kankurou agreed. 

“That pendant matches your eyes, Gaara,” Temari said, reaching out and brushing the fringe from Gaara's eyes. Gaara looked up at her, tearing his gaze from the jade piece. “I wonder if mom knew that would happen.” 

“Don't they always say mother's always know or somethin'?” Kankurou asked, getting to his feet. Temari looked up at him. 

“Help me up,” Temari said, holding her hand out for Kankurou to take. Gaara got to his feet quickly, moving to help her up as well. Temari smiled at them both once on her feet, her eyes still glistening. “I love you both, you know that, right?” 

“Oh, come on,” Kankurou said. “I don't have time for more sentimental shit.” 

Temari huffed. “Indulge your pregnant sister for one more minute, please?” 

Kankurou rolled his eyes. “Fine.” 

“Thank you,” Temari said, before pulling him and Gaara into an unexpected hug. 

“Jeeze, Temari,” he groused, shifting until he could wrap his arms around her and Gaara comfortably. 

“Shut up,” she said, sniffling. 

Kankurou did as he was told, settling into the hug. He couldn't ever remember hugging Gaara, and it had been ages since he'd hugged Temari. He squeezed them both, pressing a kiss to Temari's hair and one to Gaara's right after. Maybe he was getting soft because he was about to be an uncle, or maybe they'd just always needed a moment like this. 

“I love you both so much,” Temari said, still tearful. “I'm sorry I don't say it more.” 

“I love you, too, Temari,” Kankurou said. “And you, brat.” 

Gaara snorted. “I love you, too,” he said, the words stiff and strange on his tongue. Kankurou couldn't remember ever hearing Gaara say the words 'I love you'. 

“Come on,” Temari said, letting them go. “We should let this asshole go on his mission.” 

“Yes,” Gaara agreed. “Wouldn't want the Kazekage to get mad at him for falling behind.” 

Kankurou rolled his eyes, shoving at Gaara. “If he does get mad at me, I'll blame it on my pregnant sister.” 

Temari laughed, covering her mouth with her hands, while Gaara smiled softly beside her. 

Kankurou watched his siblings for a moment before turning and heading from the room. “See ya in a few weeks,” he called.

“Be safe, Kankurou.” 

“Let the wind carry you home.” 

Kankurou glanced back at them, touching the pendant hanging against his chest. “Don't worry,” he said. “Mom's watching over me.”


End file.
